Five Versions of Matt's Mother that Might be Canon
by alicebluegown16
Summary: Matt Parkman, we know about his father, what about his mom? Dark themes like whoa. Each title is taken from the Fifty Prompts Table. Concrit welcome.


Five Versions of Matt's Mother that Might be Canon

Five Versions of Matt's Mother that Might be Canon

**Intelligent Design**

It's not love. More like a fondness for someone in a similar situation. They take walks together in the afternoons. Always surrounded by guards. In case she gets any ideas. He's one of them; he's useful and has no plans of going anywhere, while she is only as valuable as the child growing inside of her. She's an unknown quantity and they have to watch closely.

It's not love, but he likes her smile.

"He's kicking, Maury! Here, give me your hand."

It's not love, but in that moment it's the closest he's ever been.

Of course, it all goes horribly wrong.

There's so much blood. It's everywhere and he tries to reassure her, but she shakes her head and demands to know the truth. She's so small and frail, but still so very brave. It's not love, but he respects her, and he gives that out just as sparingly.

The doctors eventually stop rushing around, there's no point, nothing to be done. The baby survived after all, and he's the only thing that matters.

Adam is more than a little annoyed. He suspects it's more due to discomfort at this ugly messy reminder of mortality than anything.

It's not love, never was love, but she cared about their child, cared about him and so he doesn't think about it. Picks his son up and walks towards the exit.

_"Don't ever look for me."_

The words come from somewhere deep within him, a voice he's never heard. It echoes around the room, around the occupants, in his own head.

No one stops him.

They live as best they can for awhile. Move around a lot. He works odd jobs, but none of them last. Why the hell should he have to punch a clock, listen to some asshole with a clipboard? He was going to be a god among men.

No one looks for them and eventually he stops walking the straight and narrow. He's got his abilities, why _shouldn'_t he use them? Suddenly, the super never asks about rent. He's getting a paycheck but never going into work. He hangs around banks and plucks account numbers out of the customers' heads like low hanging fruit.

His boy's growing up. He looks just like his mother. As the years go by, he thinks about her more. Wonders maybe if it might have actually been love. Her son deserves better.

He's going to fix it all. He's going to go back, throw himself at their feet and when they least expect it, he's going to show them what he's capable of. They took her away from him. They're the reason he's running. They're the reason his boy has trouble in school. It's all the moving around, it has to be, because she was real smart and Matty shouldn't be stumbling over his words so much at his age.

He's going to break them.

Then he'll come back for his son and they'll have everything they deserve. The two of them against the world.

Yeah.

Because he loves his boy, no question of that.

**Melted Wings**

She tells Matty they're going on a trip. Tells him he has to be very quiet, he has to be her brave little man.

Here hands shake as she buttons up his coat. When she turns, Maury is waiting in the doorway, seeming to take up the entire frame.

She wants to scream, but she schools her expression into a calm façade. As if she has every intention of being home in time to make dinner tonight.

"Sweetie, I know what you're planning."

The smile he gives her has her pushing Matty behind her body.

"I heard the thought when it first entered your head. It ain't gonna happen. You're not taking _my_ son away from me."

She starts for the door and is blocked.

"Maury, don't be silly."

She tries to laugh but it comes out more like a wheeze.

"I'm just going—"

"To your sister's?"

Her head snaps up. How had he known that's what she was going to say?

"I don't think so. I think you're gonna leave Matty here with me. I don't think I want to be married to a lying bitch who would take a man's son away. I think you've been very, very bad. I think you should be punished. There's a gun in the hall closet. Why don't you go get it?"

She smiles as a wave of peace washes over her. Suddenly, that sounds like the best idea she's ever heard.

Later, some hoity toity chick shows up. She doesn't comment on the blood all over the wall. Kind of sneers at him.

"Well, first things first, we'll have to work on your methods. Dramatic, yes, but clean up is going to be rather daunting."

He stares at her. Who the hell is this bitch and what's she doing in his home?

"You're not a cop."

"And you're not an electrician. Or at least, that's not all you are, Maury Parkman. You can be more. I can show you. I have friends who can help you. Show you how to protect your son, how to become more than you ever dreamed. You use your ability to stay ahead of creditors or to get a raise. You're a child playing with dynamite. How would you like real power?"

_Power. _

He likes the sound of that.

"Where do I sign up?"

**A Wrinkle in Time**

Matt's elbow deep in paperwork when his visitor shows up.

"Naomi! What are you doing here?"

"I came by to see you, of course."

She perches on the edge of his desk. Matt stares up at her for several moments, his expression flitting between grim and hopeful.

"I-uh-I okay. Let me just…let me get my coat. We-uh, why don't we go get some lunch?"

One of his fellow officer's gives him an appreciative grin and a punch on the shoulder.

"Parkman, you dog. Who's that totally hot little brunette at your desk?"

_You wouldn't believe me if I told you._

"Don't go there, Kowalski. She's married with a kid."

_Sort of._

Over lunch, Matt watches his companion.

"So, where-or should I say, _when _have you been?"

"France. 1915. Putting my nursing skills to use. Oh Matty, you should have seen it. So much senseless waste. There was one boy who couldn't have been much older than eighteen and-"

Matt drops his fork and buries his face in his hands.

"Naomi, stop. Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see you, of course. I told you that. And I wish you wouldn't insist on calling me by my first name. It's very disrespectful."

Matt elects to sidestep that discussion. How can he call this woman, 'Mom' when she looked younger than him? And when she had never been much of a mother to begin with, he thought bitterly.

"Are you…are you sure you should be doing this stuff? I have another friend like you and he says you have to be careful. Something about the space time continuum."

Naomi waves her fork at him and laughs.

"Oh, pooh. It's not as if I stood in Ford's Theater and yelled at Lincoln to duck. I know what I'm about, Matthew. I've been doing this long enough."

Matt takes a deep breath and steels himself for the question he's been dreading. He's not sure he wants to know the answer, but this might be the last opportunity for awhile. Naomi is many things, but reliable isn't one of them.

"Na…Ma. I have to ask. Did you know about Dad? What he was capable of?"

"Of course, I did, dear."

"Did you know about me?"

"Yes."

She looks so very calm and unflappable. Matt watches her delicately butter a roll as he tries to hold back the urge to strangle her.

"Then why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you warn me? All these years and I thought he was just some deadbeat dad! For the love of God, I thought I was losing my mind! And Molly! He could have killed your grandchild!"

Naomi pats his hand and clucks her tongue. She's clearly somewhat sympathetic of his plight, but it's that distant abstracted sort of sympathy he's more than familiar with from her.

"Oh, Matthew. I _wanted_ to tell you, believe me I did, sweetheart. But that most certainly _would_ have qualified as interfering."

She disappears before dessert is served. Leaves Matt with the check and lots of unanswered questions.

How typical of her.

He knows she tries. He knows she loves him. But just once he wishes he could be enough for her.

Sadly, he can't compare to the freedom of time and space. Talk about your abandonment issues.

**Consent**

He corners her in one of the many empty rooms at the Company facility.

"You know, you're a real pretty woman, Angela. Classy. But, sometimes I get the feelin' you think you're better than me."

His hand brushes her cheek and she flinches away from his touch.

"Aw, don't be like that, Angie."

He looms over her, his hands tightening on her wrists. Despite herself, she's overwhelmed by a sudden stab of fear. More than anything, she knows she'll always hate him for that. The loss of control.

"You're not gonna scream, are you? No, you don't want to scream. You're too proud for that, I know."

Afterwards…she has to tell Arthur about it once the morning sickness starts. He wants to kill Maury, but Adam stills his hand. He's more than a little exasperated at Maury's profound inability to keep it in his pants, but circumstances are what they are and they'll all just have to make do.

Nine months. Nine months as an incubator, a heavy burden growing inside of her. Nine months of Maury winking and smirking at her as if they shared some kind of secret romance.

He could have made them all forget. Let Arthur think the child was his, but he's like a gleeful schoolboy. Angela can see he loves the havoc he's wreaked. Loves being able to brag that he played with someone else's toys underneath the very eyes of the nursery room attendants.

She thought she'd hate him. All the pain and suffering of labor to give birth to that monster's spawn.

Until she held him. And all she could do was hope.

Hope that Matthew would be better than his parents.

And that he'd never ever know.

Pandora's box.

Best for all parties that it stays tightly shut.

**Hide and Seek**

She's been losing time.

She'll fight with Maury, ready to leave him, vowing he'll never touch her again, never make her cry, never make her boy cry ever again. And then she'll find herself cooking his favorite meal without any idea of why she would ever want to be anywhere else.

There's an awareness in the back of her mind, a nagging sense that her thoughts aren't really her own, another voice in her head.

It's like sandpaper, on fingernails, on a chalkboard in her brain.

One day, Maury yells at Matthew to pick up his toys. Suddenly, her son is snapping to attention, like a puppet whose strings have just been pulled.

She drops her coffee mug in horror. It just slips out of suddenly nerveless fingers.

The next day, she starts planning. Quietly, secretly. Keeps everything locked up drum tight. If you peaked into her mind, there wouldn't be anything more exciting than what she planned to bring to Matty's next Scout meeting.

She can't control her dreams though. And Maury is very, very good.

It's a sunny day in June when she books the flight. She doesn't know why exactly, just that she's always wanted to go someplace tropical.

One way ticket. Traveling alone.

On the plane, there's the vague feeling something isn't quite right. She needs to go home. She needs to get back—to—to who? There's no one at home. She can't even remember where home is. Odd. Instead of being afraid, all she feels is free.

Thirty years later, thousand of miles away from a private hospital room in New York City, Naomi Smith will be truly freed. Memories will come rushing back to her in a sudden tidal wave.

There will be tears, there will be shock and horror and yes, this time some fear.

But also so much joy.

She needs to get to an airport.


End file.
